


Gone, But Not Forgotten.

by Iluvunicorns327



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anger, Depression, Distortion!Sasha, Established Tim/Sasha but they're in an open relationship, Eventual Martin/Jon, F/M, Gen, M/M, Melanie King's Lack of Anger Managment skills, Multi, Not Really Character Death, Paranoia, This is a complete rewrite fic, Trans Sasha James, doors, if she was alive there would be far less clownery, ill probably update these, not really an active part of the story but its important to me, sasha james is competent, slowly changing from episode 26, thank you janus for beta-ing <3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-30
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-05 20:42:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25601530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iluvunicorns327/pseuds/Iluvunicorns327
Summary: “No, I- It’s not the worms, Tim.” She interrupted. “It’s - there’s a door. In my apartment.”There was a beat of silence. “Isn’t there supposed to be one there? Sasha, have you slept?”“N-no, but that’s not the point. The door is wrong. It’s not mine. It’s right there, where my front door should be, but it’s not my front door. It doesn’t even look anything like it.”-o0o-o0o-Sasha James Doesn't get killed by the Not!Them.But she doesn't quite make it out alive, though.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Melanie King & Tim Stoker, Sasha James & Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist, Sasha James & Michael | The Distortion, Sasha James/Tim Stoker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 29





	Gone, But Not Forgotten.

Sasha leaned against the door to Jons’s office as it closed behind her. Her head hit the wood paneling and she let out an aggravated groan. From his desk, Tim raised an eyebrow at her.

“How’d the statement go?” he asked.

Sasha shrugged. “I mean, it helps to just explain everything, I guess. I’m just hoping that he- it- doesn’t show up again.” She thought back to the thing that had terrorized her the night before. The man with long blonde hair and fingers that felt so distinctly inhuman, too long, and curled in ways that bones should have never allowed. She cleared her throat. “Jon told me to take a few days off. I think I’m probably just gonna head back to my flat.”

Tims brow furrowed. “Are you sure that’s safe? Salad-fingers showed up outside of your window first, didn’t he? Are you going to be safe?”

Sasha ran a hand through her loose curls. “I’m sure I’ll be fine. I’ll call you if you’re worried.” 

Tim’s worry didn’t leave his face, but he sighed. “Just make sure you call me, not text, alright? I don’t want a repeat of the Jane-Prentis-Texting-As-Martin situation.” Sasha cringed. Everyone in the archives felt guilty about not questioning Martin’s sudden change in speaking patterns while he had been ‘out sick’. 

“I’ll call.” She said.

“Though  _ to be fair _ , do you think he could even text with those hands?” Tim grinned. “I’m trying to picture some weird distortion guy like you described trying to type with giant curly fingers-” Sasha found herself chuckling, despite her anxiety.

“I have autocorrect turned off too - he’d be just-” Tim was grinning at her as she spoke, and she couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “If I start typing like a cat walking across a keyboard, assume it's not me.”

“Ha!” Tim pointed his pen at her. “I don’t need no warning for that kind of thing - you’re a grammar freak and you know it. I’ll know it’s a fake if you use the wrong form of ‘your’.”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “I’m heading home. And it’s 'I don’t need  _ a _ warning.'”

Tim leaned his chair back to yell back at her as she left the archives and headed back up to the institute’s exit. “That was  _ bait _ and you  _ took it _ !”

Sasha flipped him off as the door closed behind her, but she was grinning nonetheless.

-o0o-o0o-

**SJ:** jst gothome safjely

**TS:** very funny, sasha

**SJ:** See, I can have fun

**TS:** whatevr makes you feel better xo

**SJ:** <3

**TS:** ugh, affection. gross

**SJ:** <3 <3 <3 <3

**TS:** disGUSTANG

**TS:** <3

Sasha put her phone away, her grin just as big as ever, flopping herself down onto the couch. She let out a sigh and ran her fingers through her hair. 

She let her mind wander, thinking through the previous night's events and her statement. It felt  _ good _ , saying everything to Jon. She didn’t know why, but when she sat down to speak, everything just came out of her with an ease that she wouldn’t think possible.

But now, a good half an hour forward, the stress was back. And that unavoidable festering curiosity. Sasha wanted to know what Micheal was. Why he came to her. Why he said he wanted her as a friend. 

Did Sasha want him as a friend? Could she do that, become buddy-buddy with a distorted being? When he - no, she mentally chastised herself, when  _ it  _ had talked with her, everything felt viscerally wrong. There was something fundamentally incorrect about Micheal, and it had chosen her as a potential ally. 

Sasha knew, objectively, that she should have gotten off her couch and made her way to her bedroom at that moment. She should have gone to take a nap, rest her mind and body, and then later that night go binge a new Netflix show or something. But she wanted to know what Micheal was and what he wanted. 

When she got up from her couch, she didn’t go to her bedroom. She, instead, headed towards her front door.

But the door in front of her was wrong. 

Sasha’s front door was odd, a side effect of her victorian building, and it was  _ very _ distinctive. It had a small four-panel window that had been painted over black on the inside to avoid potential voyeurs. The dark paint was chipping in the bottom leftmost panel of glass, not enough to be immediately visible, but enough to serve as a peephole when she needed it. The door itself was old and unpainted oak, stained an ugly shade of dark brown that clashed with the silver door handle in a way that was particularly unpleasant to look at.

The door in her frame was not that one. It was painted a soft yellow-tinted white, two large panels with no windows. The handle was black but not painted, in a way that she did not expect metal to be able to be. It felt inviting and warm, much more so than her usual one. Something in her compelled her to open it. She almost did. She felt her hand leave her side and reach for the handle without her even realizing that it was happening.

And then her phone rang. She realized what she was doing as soon as it did. This door  _ was not hers. _ She did not know where it led, but she was  _ certain  _ that it was not to the hallway outside of her flat. Not letting her eyes off the door, she scrambled back to her couch and picked up her cell.

“ _ Sasha. _ ” Tim’s voice met her through the line. “ _ I know you’re probably alright, but I just wanted to call to make sure- _ ”

_ Shit. _ After her walk home, she had completely forgotten that she had promised Tim a call and not just a text. “Tim,” she said. “I’m fine, for now, but there’s a problem.” She lost her focus on the door in front of her.

“ _ Wait, what? Are you safe? Is it the worms? I can run out and bring you some of the CO2 canisters-” _

“No, I- It’s not the worms, Tim.” She interrupted. “It’s - there’s a door. In my apartment.”

There was a beat of silence. “ _ Isn’t there  _ supposed _ to be one there? Sasha, have you slept?” _

“N-no, but that’s not the  _ point _ . The door is wrong. It’s not mine. It’s  _ right there,  _ where my front door should be, but it’s not my front door. It doesn’t even look anything like it.”

“ _ Sasha, are you sure you’re okay?” _

“Tim, I’m being serious about this! I know I’m not going crazy it’s right-”

Sasha looked up, back to the door-that-was-not-hers. But it wasn’t, anymore. The door in front of her was no longer the welcoming yellow one that had decided to make its appearance in her doorframe. It was her door, painted window and all. Her breath hitched.

“... in front of me...” Sasha trailed off.

“ _ Sasha?” _

“I’ll call you back.” She said, hanging up on him.

Her eyes didn’t leave her door for the rest of the night.

**Author's Note:**

> hi im extremely excited about this fic :eyes:
> 
> also Sasha being super stuck up about grammar comes from butterflies by Samsa, which is the quintessential timsasha song imo https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OSOJJjc7xvc  
> anyway I'm gonna try to update this consistently!


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